


So Long and Thanks for All the Fics

by SouthronWildling



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: And watching Good Omens, Bad writers are bad, F/M, I wasn't paying attention, I've been reading too much Douglas Adams, Let me just revisit what we were given, Multi, No shade towards the actors; they did the best they could with what they were given, Season 8 retelling, and eviscerate it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-20 15:21:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19379401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SouthronWildling/pseuds/SouthronWildling
Summary: A slightly Douglas Adams-ish retelling of Season 8 that pulls no punches, no holds are barred, and with as much snark as you could possibly conceive. Too many literary and pop-culture references to count, really.  I've finally reached anger in the five stages of grief and this is my therapy. It's not quite as funny as I originally imagined, but it is... well, what it is.Did I miss a major screw-up? Is there a major screw-up you want highlighted? Let me know! I have no problem editing what I've got already to add it in. All of it should be there, and I know I can't have contained it all here.





	So Long and Thanks for All the Fics

In the beginning, royalty rode into Winterfell with all necessary pomp and ceremony. Of course, this being the second time around, it had to be done with even more pomp and ceremony, and also armies and dragons. It wasn't enough to just rhyme - it had to be bigger, better, and with more cowbell... er, eunuch jokes.

Arya watched the procession through Wintertown from the sidelines, trying to decide whether to be herself or No One. In the end, she decided that something in-between would be best, since Jon hadn't recognized her as he rode past. It really didn't matter, anyway, since she hadn't maintained a comprehensive character arc since she'd snuffed out the Freys, and nothing had come of that but a few Lannister soldiers mentioning it during a campfire singalong. All that fake fighting with her sister over Littlefinger had just confused the issue even further. So she settled on being awesome but also flat, and figured that would work. The dragons that flew overhead and set the smallfolk to scurrying away like so many sheep did draw a smile to her face, at least. Dragons were very cool.

Sansa watched from the ramparts as the seemingly neverending ranks of mouths to be fed streamed down the road and flooded Winterfell, a tsunami of soldiers and horses and nary a supplies wagon to be seen. Five years worth of winter provisions dwindled to three months in her mind, and she knew that would need to be addressed as soon as possible. A dragon flew overhead, and she stared up at it. What would it eat? Nevermind. Dragons are cool. Meh. She'd learned how to play the game from Cersei and from Littlefinger, and she wasn't about to let some overgrown lizards and a foreign Targ queen take the north. She put on her best Snark... Stark face and went downstairs.

Introductions are always fun. Jon got to hug his little bro, who wasn't so little anymore and had deleted his personality in favor of more RAM. Then he got to shuffle around all flustered as his sis raked her eyes over his ladylove. Why's she looking at her that way? he wondered. Dany had even pulled over and redone her hair halfway through town to try to ensure a good impression!

"You're so pretty. Love the necklace!" his girlfriend gushed. From behind him, he heard Missandei murmuring under her breath something about fetch. He shrugged it off; he'd play with Ghost later, if time and budget allowed.

"Hmm. On Wednesdays, we wear black. Thursdays, as well. We're all a bit into goth at the moment, and I know you want to sit at the table with us," Sansa said, looking down from her lofty height at the short little queen bee.

"We don't have time for this," the 3ER said. Exposition followed.

\---

As it turned out, they had plenty of time for this, that, and the other thing. They had time for a meeting in which Tyrion made himself look like a right muppet, since he was the only one not from the south (except for Jon) who actually thought the Lannister army coming north was a good idea. Sansa found out that dragons eat whatever they want, and three months dropped down to one. Lyanna got in some good barbs, though, so that was alright, and it was almost enough to make you forget how stilted everyone's speech had become. Somehow, the closer they drew to the penultimate battle, which might be the ultimate battle if the Night King won, the less articulate everyone became. Probably stress was causing it.

Tyrion had time for a little rendezvous with his exwife, which was nice. She insulted him, which was a welcome change from her refusing to speak and starving herself at him. He stared after her when she swept away, astoundingly long neck swanning off into the depths of the castle. She used to think I was smart? he thought. I am smart. Very. Eunuchs. Heh. Bran was ogling him from the courtyard.

Jon and Arya had time for a little reunion in the Godswood. Yay, hugs! Yay, Needle! Yay, Sansa's the smartest person I know! Wait, what? Somewhere above the Godswood, or perhaps it was flowing through the sap of the weirwood tree, a stray thought drifted that Arya's proclamation had something to do with seeing through Littlefinger's plan, but since all of that had been cut from public record, and thus from canon, the thought fizzled out and didn't connect with anything tangible, as stray thoughts were wont to do. There had been many such stray thoughts and there would be more.

Jon and Dany had time for a little frozen waterfall dragon voyeur unintentional cringe with bad dialogue. Not much was accomplished, since it was just more eye-candy but disappointingly without nudity. But hey, at least there was one good line that could have been foreshadowing, except the Seven saw fit to cut away before Jon could say it, and so defeated the purpose of the excursion entirely.

\---

Elsewhere, Cersei was grumbling about elephants and faking it with Euron. Yara got rescued by Theon, who wanted to immediately abandon her again and go back to Winterfell. As Stephen King wrote in _The Stand_ , _So it goes._

Bronn took Qyburn up on an offer to kill Tyrion and Jaime, because he's a sellsword and all that he'd done to show that he wasn't just a sellsword didn't mean a damn thing in the end, since everything is made up and the points don't matter, and neither do character arcs. He just hoped he hadn't caught the herp from whichever whore Qyburn had been talking about.

\---

Sandor. Arya. Gendry. Since no one could speak articulate sentences anymore, or emote actual emotions, they spent some time together in a forge that burned more fiercely than any of their interactions. Given their histories, it should have been the other way around, but in this strange new world we have found ourselves in, it is more than we could have hoped for, and so we draw triple the meaning from Sandor's approving lip-quirk-that-isn't-quite-a-smile. Also, cool dragonglass battle axe. Mysterious parchment with a wish.

Wait a second, are they trying to depict dragonglass being smithed as if it were iron or steel? LIke seriously? You don't need smiths for that; you want stone knappers. Ugh. You know what? Fine. We won't go there. Arya did a pretty little pirouette and it's flirty and fun, so we know what's up. There's gonna be some miladying.

\---

Angst. So. Much. Angst. Like how long have we even been here at Winterfell? A day, a week, a month? No one knows, because pacing has flown right out the window along with everyone's skilled, well-thought-out dialogue and storyline setups. Jon and Sansa shared some heartfelt moments of conversation.

"Why'd you stick your dick in crazy, Jon?"

"I'm tired, and it seemed like a good place to rest."

Mmmkay, then. Dudes have had less reasonable reasons than that, after all.

\---

"You know your dad and little brother? I torched 'em. They didn't want to bend the knee, and also your dad thought I was was foreign because he kinda forgot I was born on Dragonstone and I didn't see fit to remind him."

"Oh. Do you mind if I went off somewhere privately to cry about it? Only I don't think it would be fitting if I sobbed like a little girl in front of a supposed-Queen and the son of my former Lord Commander. Standards and all, you understand."

"Oh sure. Go emote off-screen. We don't do that in public anymore." *

\---

"Jon. Look. Your girlfriend is your aunt. Your dad was your uncle."

"What? I'm not a Lannister."

"No, it's worse. You're a Targaryen. Listen..."

Jon listened. "Well, that's just fooked."

\---

Tormund and Beric wandered around Last Hearth and finally stumbled upon the last time anything the White Walkers did made the least bit of sense, which wasn't much in the first place. In a stunning bit of symbolism, dismembered body parts as well as the child-lord of the keep were pinned up against the wall in a fascinating spiral design. This spiral, as well as several other esoteric geometric formations, were all admittedly sans raison d'etre, but.... Meh. A wildling would be too uneducated to deduce any meaning from it, despite growing up in the shadow of such a looming horror, and Beric worshipped the Lord of Light, so what did he know?

\---

The 3ER still sat in the courtyard. Two toes had succumbed to frostbite, but it was okay, because he couldn't feel them and didn't need them anyways. When Jaime rode up into Dodge, he was right there waiting, just like he knew he should be. Jaime's hair had turned brown, and that was symbolism enough for him. Hello, old friend, he thought.

Jaime gibbered.

 

*I have nothing but the deepest respect for John Bradley's performance in this scene, which was arguably the most dramatic scene in this episode. He did an excellent job with the script he was given, and I only wish he'd been given better lines to compliment his stellar performance here. Really, the same can be said for everyone's performances in Season 8. They did the best they could with what they were given. But John Bradley's performance here deserves separate commendation.


End file.
